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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145831">We Have Always Lived in the Castle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffytheVampireSlayer/pseuds/PuffytheVampireSlayer'>PuffytheVampireSlayer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Nygmobblepot, Pining, Porn With Plot, Rough Kissing, Slow Build, Teasing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:47:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffytheVampireSlayer/pseuds/PuffytheVampireSlayer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Battle of Gotham, it's six months before Jim Gordon succeeds in putting Oswald away in Blackgate. In the months leading up to this, Oswald and Ed hide out together in the Van Dahl mansion. They're both terribly, awfully bored, and being bored means Oswald has time to interrogate his feelings for Ed...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nygmobblepot - Relationship, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Animal Like Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started writing this before lockdown happened, which I now believe to be the reason we are all in lockdown. Sorry. I will update this slowly over the next while!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>They’d been inside their castle a week. Under siege. Growing bored.</p><p> </p><p>The Van Dahl mansion had expansive rooms that probably contained expansive discoveries; trinkets to toy with, jewels to wear, clothes to dress up in, but even this felt like an activity that would draw them in for mere hours and spit them back out the other end to the same listlessness. A time-fill that would end in an acceleration of languor. Poison, not cure.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald’s boredom had reached new lows, even by his current standards. Banned from watching television – not that he had any interest in doing that now that the tickertape news said the same thing over and over again: HAVE YOU SEEN THE PENGUIN? – reading, doing anything that would alleviate some of the mind-numbing, rage-inducing boredom he was couriering through every synapse he had. His latest source of amusement was embarrassing and could not be shared, but it was <em>something</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Catch a grenade? Check.</p><p>Throw a hand on a blade? Check.</p><p>Well, Butch had done so for him, and Tabitha had done so for Butch – RIP to them both, or whatever – which was close enough, in Oswald’s mind. Hands and blades played a role.</p><p>Do <em>anything</em>? Check.</p><p> </p><p>This was what he was reduced to. The sum total of the work of the king of Gotham could be explained as “finding songs that validated love for a man who didn’t care he existed and was only here out of guilt-ridden obligation”. </p><p> </p><p>But that last part wasn’t true. He was fairly certain.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald pressed a hand to the bandage on his eye. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to see ever again. It annoyed him. He had thrown himself onto that grenade in a moment of stupidity. A moment of love. Strange had done the best work he could, which had nothing to do with pride in his art and everything to do with the knife Ed had pressed to his neck as Oswald writhed on a gurney in front of the fire. That had almost felt like his love was being returned. It was still stupid.</p><p> </p><p>“Ed!” Oswald leaned back on the sofa and closed his other eye, one hand draped over his face.</p><p>A skittering sound forced him to crack it back open.</p><p> </p><p>“Not you.” He snarled, and Edward the Dog whined and Oswald sighed. “But come here anyway. You’re such a good boy.” Edward the dog rested his head on Oswald’s lap, slobber soaking through his suit. It was disgusting, and prior to this time Oswald would’ve reacted differently, but now…</p><p> </p><p>“ED!” He tried again, uncomfortable with the wetness that was now seeping into the hem of his shirt. His fingers lazily caressed Edward’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here.” Ed’s legs appeared in the doorway; the only thing Oswald could see through his lashes.</p><p> </p><p>“My bandage.” He gestured at his eye. “You need to change it.”</p><p>Ed shot him a look. Oswald pretended not to notice.</p><p>“I need fresh clothes, too. Edward has made a mess of them. Haven’t you?” He cooed, scratching Edward under his chin, deliberately not looking at Ed, trying to control the swell of thoughts that happened whenever he was around.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Does he like this? Does he approve of this? Does he think well of me for being able to love an animal? Could he love an animal like me? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ed said nothing as he crossed the tiles and assumed an expected closeness that still overwhelmed Oswald. He closed his eyes as Ed’s cool fingers pressed against the edge of the bandage, trying to peel it away as gently as possible. Everything he did to Oswald was gentle.</p><p> </p><p>That was the price of his guilt.</p><p> </p><p>It did not mean that everything he said was gentle. Ed mumbled something under his breath, close to Oswald’s face, and Oswald’s good eye snapped open.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“I said, ‘what did your last slave die of?’”</p><p>“Murder. I murdered him because he was complicit in the untimely death of my beloved mother.” Oswald snapped. Being reminded of Butch at a time when he would’ve welcomed Butch as a distraction forced a coil of rage to roll through his stomach. Being reminded of his mother dying just made him restless.</p><p>“And it’s impolite to call paid staff slaves.” He added.</p><p> </p><p>Ed said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>It was not the first time Ed had been this close to Oswald.</p><p>It was not the first time Oswald had thought this way about him.</p><p>But it <em>was</em> the first time Oswald worried Ed would be able to tell.</p><p>His breath hitched as he tried to readjust himself, his hand barely moving as he inched the hem of his shirt down over his lap.</p><p>He felt a tickle of breath across his nose and looked up, Ed’s brown eyes boring into his own, and that <em>smile</em>.</p><p>The smile.</p><p>The one that belonged to the dork who used to follow him around the GCPD. The one that belonged to the criminal mastermind – even if <em>mastermind </em>was a generosity he shouldn’t have been afforded – the murderer, the man who had tried to kill him once, the man who kept behaving in ways Oswald could barely tolerate. The smile that undid him whenever it was directed at him.</p><p> </p><p>The smile that was, unfortunately, attached to lips. And those lips attached to a face Oswald had loathed and loved and hated and loved again.</p><p> </p><p>He’d whispered the word under his breath before he’d had time to stop himself.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>There was as a beat as Ed looked at him and Oswald studiously did not return his gaze.</p><p>“Is that an invitation?” Ed asked.</p><p> His fingers had trailed down to Oswald’s arm and were slowly circling his wrist. Oswald knew if he gave him half a chance, he’d have grabbed Ed’s hand and pressed it against the waistband of his boxers, his good eye imploring him to do what his mouth wouldn’t be able to ask him. The thought of it made his skin feel like it was on fire. He needed to get back in control. He needed to stop this. It had been a <em>week. </em></p><p> </p><p>Oswald rolled his eyes, twisting himself out from underneath Ed, not caring that the new bandage wasn’t in place. He glowered at Ed, exposed eye stinging. There was movement in the corner of his good eye and he tried not to flick his gaze away, knowing what – or more accurately, <em>who </em>– it was. Hugo Strange was there in the doorway, and then he wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>The only amnesty they had been allowed to have enter their castle in the past week. The only amnesty that had stepped foot outside and been allowed to return. After the battle for Gotham, Jim <em>fucking </em>Gordon had sworn that if Oswald did not come quietly, he would put him in Blackgate. Every second inside the mansion, they were buying time Oswald knew he didn’t have. Strange being there was a reminder that Oswald still had some control over Jim, but it wasn’t enough. He was holed up inside a castle under siege and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to worm his way out of it, and all he had was the daily torture of Ed’s hands on him that would end when his eye healed.</p><p> </p><p>“Forget it.”<br/>
“You’re forgetting that there’s no one else here willing to administer your eye drops.”<br/>
“I will tell Strange to do it!” Oswald snarled, though he knew this was beyond the terms they’d agreed to when he was at knifepoint. Strange was a surgeon, not a nurse. Getting unreasonably worked up about this was a good displacement technique, or as good as it could be. He knew Ed knew and shame burned through him.</p><p>“Good luck.” Ed’s mouth twisted into a grin and Oswald stalked out of the room, Edward at his heels. He waited until he was out of Ed’s line of sight before aiming a kick at Edward’s side. A gentle kick, but enough to make Edward lie down, defeated by his master once again. <em>He could never love an animal like me. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>***</p><p>Oswald woke gasping for air. Luminous numbers on his pocket watch said it was after 2am and he lay back, arms and legs splayed out, before reaching a hand out to tug a gold chain that hung beside his headboard. He counted the seconds before his bedroom door swung open and Ed appeared in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald tossed the blankets aside, furious that he couldn’t open a window. Any gap. Any air. Anything that would let Jim Gordon know there was a weakness in the castle was not allowed.</p><p>“I need water.” He said.</p><p>“Are you <em>ever</em> going to let me sleep?” Ed growled. Truth be told, he didn’t look like he had been in bed, still dressed as he had been when Oswald had left him in front of the fire. He looked tired. Oswald wanted him to lie down beside him, and as soon as he thought it, he pushed it away and instead twisted himself into a sitting position. This game, this power struggle, required all of his attention.</p><p>“Let’s get one thing straight. If I call you, you come running. If I say I need you, you do my bidding.”</p><p> </p><p>Ed crossed the room in seconds and leaned over him, hands braced on either side of his body, and Oswald shrank back against the headboard.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t scared.</p><p>This was something else.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t talk to me about straight.” Ed said. The words curled in his throat into a growl Oswald had never heard before, but he was sure Lee Thompkins and Isa-whatever and… that first one, whatever her name was, had.</p><p>He blinked, indignation rising in his throat, ready for a rebuttal, anything to get the power back into his own hands. This wasn’t the first time Ed had made insinuations, but Oswald was determined to stop it recurring further.<em> Could he love an animal like me?</em></p><p> </p><p>“No.” Ed cut him off, his gaze raking down Oswald’s body, and Oswald had the strangest sensation of being Seen for the first time in his life. He ran his hands down Oswald’s thighs and Oswald shivered. He could feel his pupils growing as Ed’s hands travelled back up his legs, slowing as they reached the tops of his thighs, and Oswald’s eyes closed just as his hands stopped.</p><p> </p><p>Breathing hard, Oswald looked up into his face. <em>That face. </em></p><p>“Do it.”</p><p>“Do what?” Ed cocked his head, his voice low.</p><p>Oswald could not stop himself from speaking.</p><p>“Touch. Me.” Oswald choked out, angry at himself for making it so obvious.</p><p>Angry at himself for wanting it.</p><p> </p><p>Ed’s fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxers; gentle, murderous fingertips sliding along his hipbones, his stomach. Silk that usually felt so good against his skin was no match for the feel of Ed’s hands so close to–</p><p> </p><p>Oswald didn’t have time to finish the thought as Ed pulled his boxers down just enough that his cock sprang free, harder than it had ever been in any memory Oswald had ever had. Sure, he masturbated. Sure, he masturbated a lot; it made the pain go away sometimes. A distraction. A way to channel the anger. But he had never <em>hungered</em>. He had never wanted desperately to be touched, to be used, to be desired. Not like this.</p><p> </p><p>Moving distressingly slowly, Ed’s fingers trailed the length of his shaft and his thumb found the glans easily, gently massaging in circles. Teasing him, almost hurting him, but not quite.</p><p>Oswald’s head fell back involuntarily.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.” He said again, the word a metronome in his head forcing his breaths to escape in ragged, desperate gasps.</p><p><br/>
Ed climbed up onto the bed and pulled Oswald’s boxers down fully, exposing all of him to the warm air. Every bit of him was aching to be touched, to be sucked…</p><p><br/>
“Was that an invitation?” he asked again, and Oswald reached down and wrapped his fingers in Ed’s hair, forcing his mouth, <em>that mouth, </em>to exhale warm air onto his cock and he was sure he was going to come in seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Tilting his head so he could see Oswald’s face, Ed’s lips trailed down his shaft, his tongue gently pressing the length of it, slow, torturous, heavenly.</p><p> </p><p>Not just that, Oswald realised.</p><p>Ed was tasting him. Savouring him with every lick.</p><p> A low moan escaped his throat and Oswald was shaking. It wasn’t fear – Oswald was rarely, truly <em>afraid </em>– but pure adrenaline. Pure lust.</p><p> </p><p>“Ed?” Oswald said, and Ed paused. “Fuck me.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t even hesitate. It was enough to force Oswald to scramble upright, pushing Ed’s face away even though he didn’t want to, already missing the softness, the wetness, of Ed’s mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“No?” Oswald hissed, indignation overriding any embarrassment he might’ve felt.</p><p>“No.” Ed grinned wickedly, and Oswald saw that Riddler glint in his eyes, the one that never truly left him, even when he was being Ed. “We have, oh, at <em>least</em> a month here before Jimbo gives up and we run Gotham again. It’s been a week. You’ve waited months for this. You can wait a little longer.” Ed stroked his face in a slow movement Oswald knew he would think about every night before he slept for probably the rest of his life, and he hated it.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald pushed Ed away further and pulled his boxers up, covering himself fully, his cock uncomfortably damp against the fabric. His arms crossed in front of him defensively before he’d thought about it, but he was scrambling for power again, his breathing slowing even in the stifling heat of the night, but his brain full of fury and full of desire.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>still </em>don’t see the glass of water I asked for."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Challenged</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week two under siege. </p><p>Ed is only in the Van Dahl mansion out of guilt-ridden obligation, though he's sure there's more to it. Unbeknownst to Oswald, Ed has been playing a reluctant game with the Riddler. If he doesn't comply, Oswald will die...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I switched to Ed's POV for this one for reasons unknown to anyone, especially myself.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ed was only there out of pity and guilt-ridden obligation.</p><p> </p><p>He’d tried to make that last part not true. But it was hard to accept that Oswald… <em>Oswald, of all people…</em> had considered him so worthy of life that he had thrown his body on an incendiary device. Scientifically speaking, he was lucky he only lost an eye. Emotionally speaking, Ed wasn’t sure Oswald would be able to recover from it.</p><p> </p><p>It had been a week since the ... <em>incident</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A week of avoiding mirrors and avoiding being riled by Oswald’s desperate attempts to make him crack. This included – but was not limited to – a lot of lounging around in the nicest suits he could find, many night-time summonings – that godforsaken little bell was wired up to Ed’s room, and though he could disable it if he wanted to, his guilt kept it intact – and many attempts to draw attention to some of his more appealing physical attributes.</p><p>There was constant pressure to be in the same room as Oswald, to look him in the eye, and then he brought out the mirrors…. Ed wasn’t sure how Oswald had known for certain about the mirror thing, but he had figured it out and now every mirror he could find was positioned carefully towards doorways and places Ed was likely to stand.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever had possessed him on the night of the .... <em>incident</em>.... probably began with <em>R</em> and ended in <em>iddler</em> and Ed did not want to revisit that. He was Ed today because the battle for Gotham and having the chip removed had made his sneaky, manipulative counterpart dormant, for a time. Long enough for Ed to become the dominant personality once again. It was easier to dress like him and act like him, but he was Ed and not <em>him</em>. Even if they were, by all accounts, one and the same.</p><p> </p><p>In truth, he did not know how he felt about Oswald. Other than guilty.</p><p> </p><p>“Ed!” Oswald called, and Ed closed his eyes, keeping his head down to avoid the mirrors, and was surprised when he entered the living room where Oswald was draped over a chaise longue – ever the damsel in vague distress – to find Hugo Strange pensively staring at himself in the mirror beside the fire.</p><p> </p><p>“Strange.” Ed nodded at him. Hugo made a noise in his throat that may have been contempt. Ed chose to believe he was simply choking on an airborne piece of Edward the Dog’s fur.</p><p> </p><p>“Strange is leaving us today.” Oswald continued. “I thought it was only right to thank him for his help.”</p><p> </p><p>A tinny little bell, not unlike the one that kept Ed awake most nights, began to sound in his head. A movement to his left made his eyes dart towards it involuntarily, and he saw <em>him </em>in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll just be you, him and the dog, now.” the Riddler said. “And me, of course.” He laughed, and Ed forced his eyes away, grinding his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t supposed to look. If he looked, <em>he </em>forced his way inside his head, and he wasn’t doing this anymore. Evading GCPD capture would be easy if he could stay plain old Ed.</p><p><br/>
“This is what he wanted!” the Riddler continued, and Ed shook his head slightly to clear it. Oswald had been talking, and Ed had missed almost all of it.</p><p> </p><p>“–we are grateful for your service, and when Gotham is ours again, you shall be rewarded. Handsomely.” Oswald finished, the usual swagger in his words.</p><p> </p><p>Strange nodded slowly, his face betraying no emotion.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I will believe that when I see it. Goodbye.” He said lightly.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald’s face crumpled in fury, but he said nothing else. Strange gathered up a bag that Ed was quite sure was full of jewellery from Grace Van Dahl’s bedroom, and he left via the back door. There was a commotion as the GCPD sentries standing guard at the gates rallied at the sight of the door opening, and then there was silence as they settled themselves.</p><p> </p><p>Later, Gordon would be by for his nightly <em>Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma, come out with your hands up </em>megaphone shouting exercise. Ed supposed it made him feel important. Maybe if he did it enough times, Gordon would get a little merit badge that he could trade in for a promotion.</p><p> </p><p>Ed didn’t understand why they didn’t just ram the doors down and seize them both.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe it’s because this is fun for Jim too. He wants to be Commissioner, doesn’t he?” the Riddler asked, toying with the brim of his hat. Ed turned and stalked to the other side of the room to stare through the crack in the curtains.</p><p> </p><p>“He wants to make this a big seize. A big arrest. He doesn’t need anything extra to prove you and little old Oswald are bad, bad boys, does he?” the Riddler continued. Ed pressed his fist against the window pane, aware Oswald was probably watching him, trying not to react. “He wants this to be his crowning glory. I can see the headlines. I bet he’ll tip off his little friend, what was her name? Valerie Vale. Might make up for the whole shooting thing. You know he likes to collect debts as much as pay. That’s what this one would be about. He’ll collect and pay at the same time.” the Riddler said.</p><p> </p><p>“Strange will pay for this, you know.” Oswald whispered. Ed once again was stricken by the realisation that he had missed some preamble.</p><p> </p><p>Ed turned to see Oswald pacing in front of the fire, his fists balled in fury. “He can’t just… just… <em>leave</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“We knew he was going to.” Ed said. “It was always the plan.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t get it.” Oswald stopped pacing and leaned forward, his fists clenched. “EVERYBODY LEAVES. Fish… My mother….My father… Butch…. Jim… Sofia…even <em>you</em> will leave, when the time comes.”  Tears welled in his eyes and Ed couldn’t tell if it was fury or sadness or both. He also didn’t have the heart to point out that the only person in that list that had actually left was Gordon. Everyone else was dead, and had not left by choice. Especially not Butch, who Oswald had killed himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Oswald. I won’t leave you.”</p><p><br/>
“You will. Everyone does. Everyone leaves.” Oswald’s hands fell open to his sides, and for a moment he was as small and defeated as when Ed hid him and cared for his bullet wounds all those years ago. When he’d bathed him and given him his own clothes and sang to him and became friends with him and lov–</p><p> </p><p>He cut off the thought before <em>he </em>heard it. A low chuckle from the window told him he’d been too late.</p><p> </p><p>There had been something deeply intimate about keeping Oswald in his apartment that he had never verbalised. It had been devoid of intimacy, and yet…</p><p> </p><p>“There was just one problem, wasn’t there, Ed?” the Riddler whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t say it.” Ed muttered, grinding his teeth together.</p><p> </p><p>“Say what?” Oswald snapped. “It’s the truth. Everyone leaves.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Not that that. It’s... never mind." Ed took a deep breath. "I promised you I wouldn’t leave, and I’m not leaving.” He moved towards Oswald and raised a hand towards him, but Oswald flinched back.</p><p><br/>
“<em>Don’t</em> touch me. I don’t need your pity.” He spat. Tears flowed freely and his nose was running in a way that did not gross Ed out like it should’ve. He tried to hand him a handkerchief but Oswald turned and left the room, leaving Ed in what should’ve been the still silence of an otherwise empty house.</p><p> </p><p>“We know what the problem was.” The Riddler continued, reminding Ed that he was never, ever alone.</p><p> </p><p>“There was only <em>one</em> bed.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ed couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t Oswald’s fault this time.</p><p> </p><p>Not directly, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>He tossed a book to the side and sat in front of the fire, massaging his temples. This was becoming an all-too familiar routine. Not sleeping, falling into bed, being woken by Oswald’s insipid demands, waking to Edward the Dog licking his face in the cold light of morning. It had been just over two weeks and he was not looking forward to this continuing.</p><p> </p><p>He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and stiffened, knowing what was coming.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t stop thinking about him, can you?” the Riddler teased.</p><p> </p><p>“I can. And I will.” Ed said.</p><p>“Come, now. Let’s not play games. Oh, no, wait. That’s the whole problem, isn’t it? I goaded you into playing a game and now you’re full of regret and pity and confusion.”<br/>
“That’s not… I don’t…” Ed screwed his face up in fury. No matter what he said, <em>he </em>was going to have a smart answer in return. <em>He</em> knew the truth better than Ed did. They were one and the same.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know how you feel about him and it’s tearing you up inside. I should make you kill him.”</p><p><br/>
“Don’t you dare.” Ed growled.</p><p><br/>
The Riddler grinned and Ed swore. The rule was to never give this part of himself the satisfaction of seeing his weaknesses and he broke it over and over and over again.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine. Too early in the game for that. I know what you’re thinking about, though.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“You use me to say hello and goodbye. I’m sometimes chapped, but mostly dry. What am I?”</p><p> </p><p>“These are getting worse.” Ed snapped.</p><p> </p><p>“Tick, tock. Answer.”<br/>
<br/>
“Mouth.”</p><p><br/>
“The answer was ‘lips’, but I will accept ‘mouth’. Tonight’s game challenge is… kiss him.”<br/>
<br/>
“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“No?”</p><p>“I’m not playing this game with you.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“And yet you were so <em>willing </em>to play last week. What did you do again?” the Riddler tapped his chin theatrically and Ed resisted the urge to smash the mirror. “That’s right. You literally put his–“<br/>
<br/>
“ENOUGH.” Ed snarled, standing suddenly. “I’ll kiss him. Just shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>The Riddler grinned.</p><p> </p><p>Ed did not want to think about what he did last week, because then he would not stop thinking about it and he would never survive this time in the castle.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted Oswald. That was the truth. He had always wanted Oswald, from the second he laid eyes on him in the GCPD to the moment he pulled himself away from Oswald the week before, dying to pull all of his cock into his mouth and to make Oswald feel every bit as good as Ed knew he could make him feel.</p><p> </p><p>But if he did that, the Riddler would force him to escalate. He’d watch Ed develop more feelings, and then he would force him to pull the trigger. For every bit Ed was bored, the Riddler felt worse, and the worse the Riddler felt, the more he took it out on Ed. That was how it had always been.</p><p> </p><p>He just couldn’t stop himself thinking about Oswald’s head falling back, his lips parted, and Ed had wanted to kiss him and stroke his skin and be as close to him as he could be. He had wanted to rip the rest of his clothes off and bite him and hold his face while he fucked him and he thought about this every other minute of the day. Oswald thought this was his game, but it wasn’t. If he had his way, they’d never leave Oswald’s bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Except for food. Oswald did not tolerate low blood sugar very well.</p><p> </p><p>“Ed, what are you doing?” Oswald said. Ed jumped and spun to face him, his fury at <em>him </em>still etched into the lines of his face that he fought to relax into something more befitting of the melancholy he’d been carrying for a week, a year, a lifetime.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m going to bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“I rang the bell but you didn’t answer.” Oswald said. “I need tea.”</p><p> </p><p>Ed took a deep, steadying breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you get it yourself? I’m not feeling..” he massaged his head, not bothering to end the sentence.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald’s lip curled, but Ed thought he saw worry in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Ed..” Oswald said.</p><p> </p><p>“Do it now.” The Riddler whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald moved closer.</p><p> </p><p>In seconds, Ed had him pressed up against the door frame, his hands on Oswald’s slender hips, his mouth running along Oswald’s neck, and the gasp that escaped Oswald sent his brain into a haze that he couldn’t think through.</p><p><br/>
Oswald’s hands slid up the back of his shirt, everywhere his fingers touched electrifying every part of Ed’s body. He pressed against him and could feel already how hard Oswald was, how much he wanted him, and Ed was hungry. He pushed his hips against Oswald's and felt his own erection press against him and he sighed into his neck, wanting Oswald's hands on him, to be inside him. For Oswald to be all he could think about forever.</p><p> </p><p>He paused for a second, Oswald'a eyes as unfocused as he felt, and he pressed his lips to Oswald’s gently, so gently. They were dry but soft, and Oswald froze before he responded instinctively, deepening the kiss, his mouth opening and his tongue gently pressing against Ed’s, and Ed couldn’t control himself, his teeth coming down on Oswald’s bottom lip, forcing him to gasp again. Ed wrapped his arms around Oswald and lifted him so he could wrap his legs around his waist, pressing him against the door frame as their mouths hungrily searched each other, lips finding skin and biting, kissing, licking, anywhere they could reach, on and on for eternity.</p><p> </p><p>He thought about moving away from the door frame and lying Oswald down on the chaise longue, pulling his boxers down and taking all of him into his mouth, sucking hard and fast until Oswald begged to be allowed come. He was ready to do this, ready to be lost forever in the scent of his skin, the sound of him moaning, a thing he would get high on forever.</p><p> </p><p>Until Ed could feel the Riddler laughing over his shoulder and he pulled himself back to reality.</p><p> </p><p>He dropped Oswald suddenly, stepping away from him, fighting for breath.</p><p> </p><p>Oswald crumped in surprise, his bad leg unable to bear his own sudden weight.</p><p> </p><p>“Ed,” He whispered, his usual fury clouded by confusion, by desire. His hair was dishevelled and he was breathing heavily, his beautiful skin flushed and his lips red and swollen and Ed wanted to kiss him more and never stop.</p><p><br/>
“Goodnight, Oswald.” </p><p> </p><p>He left the room. Neither Oswald nor the Riddler followed.</p>
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